


before anyone else

by gotchick



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, F/M, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14380587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: mark wakes up one morning as a girl. they know from jaebum and jinyoung's prior experience how to change him back, but mark doesn't know how to tell jackson that he wants him to kiss him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daramjwigongju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daramjwigongju/gifts).



So… it had to happen now.

When Mark wakes up one uneventful morning in the body of a girl — not just any girl, but a girl with his face underneath her long, sleep-mussed hair — he thinks this is the most bizarre nightmare of his life at first. He tears his eyes away from the mirror with his stomach in knots, and burrows back into bed, squeezing his eyes shut.

But however desperately he tries to fall back into sleep, it’s just not happening. The more he strains, the wider awake he gets. The niggling memory from three years ago in the back of his mind doesn’t help matters.

They were still in Korea back then. One morning they woke up and a series of horrified screams pealed through the dorm as they discovered in succession the same thing — a girl in Jinyoung’s bed, half-naked. Thankfully (or maybe not for Bambam and Yugyeom, who were still teenagers), her classified parts were mostly shielded from their view by his blanket. The man in question was nowhere to be found, and when the girl was woken by their shocked wails, she looked down at the sheet covering her, grabbed her hair roughly with saucer eyes, and started shrieking too.

Perhaps they wouldn’t have been so shocked had they not known that Jinyoung prefers guys, and was already together with Jaebum, even then.

(As for Jaebum, they all swallowed in concert when they turned to him instinctively to see an unmistakable shadow of betrayal flit across his face in hurt bewilderment.)

The dorm was so chaotic that morning that it took a while to figure out what was actually happening. Which was that no, Jinyoung wasn’t cheating on Jaebum, he would never do him dirty like that; and yes, this was possible, and it had happened. Jinyoung did not have a long-lost twin sister.

He _was_ the girl in Jinyoung’s bed, with his undeniable doppelgänger features and way of speaking and mannerisms.

After the hullabaloo finally quietened down a bit, with lots of agitated disbelief and near-fainting and Jaebum coughing as he moved in front of Jinyoung once they had established his identity, blocking all their burningly curious gazes until he had clumsily rummaged in Jinyoung’s closet with shaky hands and tossed him the smallest articles of clothing he owned. After Jinyoung had changed with her back facing them, Bambam helpfully pointed out that they could see the outline of her nipples through the shirt which stretched across her newly expanded chest. Jaebum glared at him and threw them all out of the room, Jinyoung’s face burning in scandalised outrage of modesty.

They had an impromptu group meeting in the living room, and could hear Jaebum and Jinyoung discussing the insane development in the room in hushed voices too. Youngjae helpfully Googled “changing into a girl” but they only got all sorts of weird results about some fictional trope called “genderswap” which weren’t helpful at all. Mark finally spoke up and suggested wisely that maybe the works of fiction about this phenomenon would provide ideas about how to change back, and so Youngjae searched that and found a ridiculously long list of “solutions”. They were huddled over the printer printing this out when the missing two finally emerged from Jinyoung’s room.

It was a little jarring to see Jaebum that much taller than Jinyoung at first, since usually their height difference is negligible. Jinyoung suddenly looked awfully small and petite and feminine and when she swung her wide doe eyes to lock with Mark’s he felt his face warm a few degrees, his hands fidgeting like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with them. She was dressed in one of Jaebum’s sweatshirts over the previous tee she was wearing and swimming in it. Mark noticed Jackson eyeing the exposed collarbones where it slipped off her shoulders tantalisingly. It was funny that before then he had never known Jackson had a weakness for pretty clavicles, but then again most guys probably did.

Jaebum looked more disturbed by their unabashed ogling than Jinyoung herself, who looked uncertain and lost and frightened. Mark wanted to enfold her into his arms and give her a totally platonic hug, assuring her they would all help her fix this, but he looked at Jaebum’s protective eyes and thought better.

Jackson was less wary, and he promptly leaped across the couch to sling an arm over Jinyoung. She looked up at him and Mark could almost see Jackson melt at the sudden size difference. No wonder, Jackson always liked petite girls.

“Don’t worry, Jinyoungie. Oppa knows how to change you back.”

“ _Oppa?_ ” Jaebum repeated in a strangled tone, eyes turning menacing and shifting pointedly to Jackson’s hand huge on Jinyoung’s shoulder until he dropped it.

“Yeah, she can’t call me hyung now, right?”

“She — He’s never called you hyung.” Jaebum glowered at Jackson, steering Jinyoung away to sit down on the sofa. The other boys quickly moved apart to create a space for her, hovering a respectful distance away as though eager but afraid to draw closer.

“Guys, stop staring at me.” Jinyoung covered her face in distress and they all swallowed audibly in sync at the sweet, girlish voice coming from her lips, that suited her new look unnaturally well. Yugyeom tentatively moved a tendril of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear to see it flaming redly — it was their Jinyoung all right. Jaebum looked less than happy about his gesture but kept his silence.

“It’s still me! I’m Jinyoung!” Jinyoung continued unnecessarily, as though any of them would believe she was an impostor.

Jaebum looked again at Jackson suspiciously. “You said you know how to fix this?”

Jackson grinned, childishly glad to have Jaebum at his mercy in any way. “Say please and I’ll tell you.”

“Jackson, you —“ Jaebum looked about to manhandle Jackson down with sheer strength, but at one alarmed look from Jinyoung he softened.

“Please.”

All of them tore their gazes away from the girl the first time to see Jaebum with his face reddened, the supplication in his voice raw and sincere. Jackson relented, looking thrown.

 

Jaebum and Jinyoung grimaced when they saw the lengthy list of possible methods. “Are you sure these are credible?” Jinyoung asked thoughtfully, sounding strangely like a girl for the first time.

They all shrugged. “It’s worth a try. We couldn’t find anything else online,” Youngjae answered.

“Ugh. I’m definitely not drinking beetle juice.” Jinyoung made a disgusted face. “I swear I’d rather stay female if I had to.”

“What even is that? Where would you get it from?” Jackson queried, his eyes dancing with something that looked almost like schadenfreude.

“Maybe by blending dead beetles in a juice blender. Youngjae hyung, Google a recipe,” Bambam instructed imperiously.

“Stop messing around, this isn’t funny,” Jaebum growled, looking highly unamused. “We have a rehearsal tonight, and the gig is tomorrow. Jinyoung definitely can’t be absent for that.”

Jinyoung shook her head furiously, making her hair swish. “I won’t.” She grit her teeth. “If all else fails, I guess… I can force myself to drink it.”

Bambam let loose a gleeful chortle before he covered his mouth and cleared his throat.

“Don’t spout nonsense. You won’t have to. Let’s go out and try all the other options first. You’ll have to disguise yourself. I don’t want any paparazzi pictures of me being “out with a girl” again.”

“Yes, oppa.” Jinyoung pouted, and Jaebum’s authoritative tone immediately disappeared as he sputtered on his own spit.

 

Long story short, they left the house alone, to all of their disappointment, Jaebum saying that it would attract too much attention for them to all be out and Jinyoung might be noticed and identified. Jackson flopped back onto the couch sulkily and arched with grace, tilting his head back over the armrest. His hair flopped over his eyes, but Mark could see a dreamy expression.

“Damn, I never knew Jinyoung would make such a hot girl. Right, hyung?”

Mark caught his eye and laughed, the adrenaline in his veins slowing a little. He kicked Jackson’s shin lightly. “Be serious. What if they don’t manage to change her back?”

Jackson shrugged and flashed a wicked grin at Mark. “I hope they don’t, so I get to see her again later. Wouldn’t you be sad if we don’t?”

Mark shook his head and went to make them both coffee. It was going to be a long day.

 

Back in the present, the Manhattan sun streams through his window and brings out shimmery flaxen highlights in his hair the umpteenth time he looks into the mirror. Because he has seen this happen before, he can actually believe his eyes. He just didn’t think it would happen to them again. After that night when Jaebum and Jinyoung came back, the latter thankfully restored to his gender, there was a scare the next April when Yugyeom shrieked the house down to announce that Bambam had morphed into a girl but it turned out to be just an ingenious and juvenile April fool’s prank by the two of them. Three years passed and they had all kind of started to complacently assume that it had just been a one-off unfortunate freak accident that would never occur again, at least among the seven of them.

After much grilling, Jinyoung finally caved and came clean about how they had eventually changed her back — they had stumbled onto the method quite by accident; it was mentioned in the list from the internet but was right at the very bottom so they hadn’t worked their way there yet. They had spent all day running around Seoul in disguise doing all manner of ridiculous things to no avail, and were finally losing steam and hope. Jinyoung started to cry and apparently (in Jaebum’s words reported by Jinyoung) she “looked so pretty crying that he had to kiss her”. For the record, Jaebum denied ever spouting anything as cheesy as that, so it was their word against each other’s.

Thankfully there was pretty much no one around when they did, because Jinyoung metamorphosised back into a boy “within seconds,” too quick for Jaebum to even catch more than a glimpse of how such an unreal thing was possible.

So, they had discovered the secret to changing back. For a while after that they all privately fretted about who would kiss them if they underwent this ordeal too, but mercifully it never re-occurred and with the passage of time the crazy and incomprehensible miracle simply got buried in the backs of their minds.

 

Mark drags himself reluctantly into action, knowing but dreading what must be done. Still in a stupor, he unearths a set of bra and panties left behind by an old girlfriend for when she would sleep over on weekends and kept a spare set of clothes in his closet. They fit, though a little loosely. Mark can’t believe he’s even skinnier — um, less well-endowed — than her. He stumbles into his bathroom, thanking god he has a private one, and stares at himself in the mirror above the sink. Nope, not an optical illusion. He’s a Girl.

He groans and does his business as discreetly as possible, highly uncomfortable. He avoided looking at his female parts even when shimmying into the underwear, feeling absurdly like he should respect this female body even though it’s technically his own and despite the countless times he’s seen different bodies of his various girlfriends by now.

The sensation is indescribable, walking around and doing stuff in a female body. It’s so startlingly different, a whole world apart from being inside a male’s. He tries not to imagine the horrendous possibility of the method that had worked for Jinyoung not working for him, for some reason, and him ending up having to live life as a girl forever.

 

He looks around the house cautiously, and finds it empty. Both Jinyoung and Jaebum must be in Jaebum’s room, as they are some mornings. The other guys moved out one by one some time ago and now the three of them are left sharing an apartment. They got a smaller one when the band switched record labels and moved to be based in New York, since they didn’t need so much space. Sometimes he feels like a third wheel but Jaebum and Jinyoung both reassure him sincerely that he is anything but, and that they would never agree to him moving out on account of giving them privacy. Yugyeom sometimes comes to sleep over on weekends and occupies his spare room so they don’t feel that much like an awkward trio. There’s another guest room with all of the other three’s stuff which they use alternately or share whenever they drop by to crash for a few nights, when they have overnight recording or jam sessions which end in too much pizza and beer after midnight.

 

Mark idles on the sofa, reluctant to knock on Jaebum’s door, knowing he will give them an unpleasant shock and there will be that moment of awkwardness when the question of one of them needing to kiss Mark arises. They will both be excessively gentlemanly as they always are, and go out of their way to reassure him neither of them mind who he prefers, but he knows that it’s never a desirable experience to see one’s lover being kissed by another, and he doesn’t want their living arrangement to get inconvenient and awkward.

Plus, now that he’s getting used to it, it doesn’t feel exactly painful or particularly agonising being a girl. Other than the natural worry that he won’t be able to change back even after being kissed, and the whole jarring other-ness of it all, he’s kind of settled down into his body and feels even comfortable lounging on the couch in his girlfriend’s clothes with his hair tied up clumsily with a rubber band he found in the kitchen. It was way too long and spilling over his shoulders, getting in the way when he bent to wash his face. He combed his bangs back but they just flopped back over his eyes and he didn’t want to use the hair gel he usually uses to style them into a quiff.

Now, he brushes his bangs out of his eyes as he takes a super-awkward picture of himself and holds his breath, uploading it into the group chat.

 _Guys, help. I woke up like this_.

He feels a little stupid for a beat after he sends, his heart pounding just a little as he awaits the inevitable outpouring of stunned replies that will flood the chat.

Sure enough, within a minute so many messages arrive in succession that his picture gets shoved way up out of his cell phone screen.

_Hyung, why do you sound so calm??? Are you okay?? Are you in shock???_

_Don’t do anything stupid, Mark hyung! I’ll be right there in fifteen!!!_

_Me too!!! Yug, wait for me~!!!_

For the first time since he woke up, Mark can’t help chuckling at the influx. Youngjae quickly asks if he’s okay and tells him not to worry in a calmer tone, and promises Mark that he will visit the apartment immediately after he finishes his current appointment.

_Jackson hyung, where are you??? We’re having a CRISIS!_

Mark stops laughing at Bambam’s next message, an unidentifiable feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach. He wants to reply to Jackson to ignore Bambam, or Bambam not to overreact, but he doesn’t know how to word his reply so it won’t sound incredibly awkward.

He can’t really put his finger on why, but he doesn’t want Jackson to see him as a girl.

Remembering Jackson’s undisguised interest in girl-Jinyoung three years ago, Mark can’t help wondering if he will react the same way when he sees him, checking him out with an exaggerated double take and wolfish appreciation in his eyes. Or maybe his disinterest might spurn Mark indirectly and unintentionally — after all, Jinyoung makes a much prettier girl, and guy, than him.

 

His phone beeps, startling him out of his panicked reverie. His heart flips as he looks down to see the first reply with Jackson’s carefree and broad grin in the display picture.

_Fuck, Mark, you’re so pretty. Don’t let any of those horndogs kiss you before I get there ;)_

Mark’s face hurts, and he belatedly realises that he’s smiling. So… Jackson is in Manhattan. He’s been flying in and out so often lately Mark lost track of his work schedule, and even when he’s in the country he’s usually knee-deep in pending schedules. The last time they met was Jackson’s birthday, at the party all the others threw for him, but he’s been worried about Jackson’s health lately. It’s nice to know he’s still his usual undimmably brilliant self.

 

Movingly, Yugyeom is true to his word somehow and manages to skid pantingly into the apartment in just above fifteen minutes.

“I sped all the way here, hyung!” He rushes into the room, red-faced, explaining his speed.

“Thanks, Gyeommie. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had to! Hyung, what —“

He is interrupted by Jinyoung emerging from Jaebum’s room, probably roused by the noise. “What’s going on? Yugyeom, who’s that? Did you bring your girlfriend to visit?”

“It’s Mark.” Jaebum’s flat voice answers him as he walks out a pace behind, hair tousled hopelessly and half-lidded eyes flying open at Mark’s stricken face. His phone wobbles in his hand.

Jinyoung nearly trips as he rushes forward to kneel in front of Mark. He brushes Mark’s hair off his forehead and peers into his face urgently. “Mark hyung?”

“It’s me,” Mark croaks. “I don’t know what happened. I just woke up like this.”

“Did you eat something? Do something?” Yugyeom pries curiously.

Mark thinks about it, then shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. My head is a mess.”

Jinyoung immediately flips the switch into maternal mode, ushering Yugyeom to move and let him sit down beside Mark. Mark is uncomfortably aware of his body heat, his maleness and masculine scent enveloping him. Jinyoung’s shoulders suddenly look terribly broad and his voice is deep and husky.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem to sense his discomfort, but Jaebum strangely appears to pick up on it and sits down on his other side slightly further away. He doesn’t crowd Mark and seems to understand his feelings of apprehension and fear although he’s never been female before, his eyes kind as he places a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back to normal in a jiffy.”

Bambam bursts conveniently through the door, and they go through another flurry of questions midway through which Youngjae sidles in and moves to stand attentively behind Mark. None of them make any catcalls or otherwise flirtatious remarks as they had with Jinyoung and Mark can’t tell if it’s because it’s their second time going through this, or he’s just that unattractive in female form.

Then he feels bad, because obviously he realises it’s because they’re all more mature now. They’re no longer teenagers or adolescents, but Mark abruptly feels overwhelmed by the understanding and silent, steady reassurance in all of their eyes. It must be the girl effect — but he feels like right here, right now, he could fall in love with any or all of them in a heartbeat.

 

“Hyung!” Bambam sounds alarmed, his voice rising. “Why are you crying? Are you all right?”

Crying? Mark doesn’t realise he is until Jinyoung’s thumbs are below his eyes and brushing away his tears with even more tenderness than he had been aware their most gentle member is capable of. Beside him, Jaebum moves closer and Mark quickly recovers himself, drawing away from Jinyoung, but Jaebum doesn’t show any irritation as he takes one of Mark’s hands and comfortingly says, “Hyung, I told you not to worry. You can be back to normal in a second. I promise.”

Instead, it’s Jinyoung who clears his throat and eases Mark’s hand out of Jaebum’s, obviously not thrilled to see Jaebum holding a girl’s hand, even if it is Mark. He ignores Jaebum’s look as he holds Mark’s hand soothingly and adds, “Yes, hyung. It really is super easy. I’ll help you if you want.”

Jaebum starts beside Mark, but seems to bite his lip to keep from objecting. Mark quickly puts them both out of their suspense by saying, “No, I don’t want you or Jaebum to kiss me.” They sag visibly in relief, and Youngjae snorts behind him at Mark’s frankness.

“I know, you want me, right?” Bambam preens smugly, and Yugyeom flicks his forehead.

“Pabo, Mark noona’s lips are mine.” Mark nearly loses his marbles at the address.

“But seriously, why are you crying? Are you worried you won’t change back in time for the gig next week?” Youngjae nudges him gently, sounding concerned. His voice is stupidly deep too and Mark feels his heart skip a beat. It’s ludicrous. Does every girl’s heart flutter like this around five — admittedly devastatingly attractive — men?

 

“Crying? Who’s crying?” The last member of their team barges into the house unceremoniously, out of breath and sweaty. Jackson looks breathtakingly classy and chiseled, even dressed down, his celebrity aura unmistakable. Mark’s heart gives a startling and painful throb and he nearly gasps out loud. He feels emotional, more sensitive, and has no idea if it’s the metamorphosis that has thrown his nerves out of whack, or just the way girls are.

“Mark!” Jackson hunkers down in front of him, peering up into his face like Jinyoung had before, his open face filled with urgent concern. “Why are you crying? Did someone kiss you and fail? I told you to wait for me!”

“No one kissed him yet,” Jaebum interjects flatly.

“Yeah, don’t jinx it,” Yugyeom adds.

“Oops, sorry.” Jackson looks chastened, but his brow furrows. “Why are you in tears then? We’re here for you, hyung.”

“That’s why,” Mark mumbles, and they all look confused.

“I’m just… touched that you guys rushed here just for me, I guess,” he mumbles incoherently. It looks like although his body is female, his self is still the same. It’s reassuring somehow.

“Pabo hyung! Of course we would!” Bambam flicks Mark’s forehead thoughtlessly, then cowers at their combined glower.

“Be a gentleman,” Jinyoung reminds him.

“So… who do you want to kiss you? You must be getting antsy.” Youngjae massages his shoulders knowingly, his hands keeping respectfully far from Mark’s chest.

“Yeah, we’re all ready,” Bambam enthuses, leaning closer. Mark notes with curious amusement that Yugyeom looks less than happy at his eagerness, placing a hand on his arm to hold him back, but not saying anything to stop Mark from picking him.

Interesting, Mark thinks, hiding his smirk. Maybe it would be a good idea to take up Bambam’s offer, just to goad Yugyeom into revealing his apparent feelings. Or to request Yugyeom to do the honours, and have fun watching Bambam’s reaction. He knows Yugyeom would appreciate getting a glimpse of Bambam’s feelings too and wants nothing more than to help them both as a hyung.

Youngjae too, he knows, would oblige more than happily.

 

So he has three good choices. But… Mark’s eyes shift towards Jackson, quietly and intently studying him, his expression unreadable. He no longer wears his every emotion like a movie on his face and so it’s been harder in recent years for Mark to read his thoughts like he used to think he was good at. Jackson has grown more complicated, just like all of them have. They’ve matured, deepened. There was a phase when Mark went through an “emo” stage when he thought he “didn’t know Jackson anymore”. He never said all those super dramatic and cliche stuff people usually blurted like “I don’t recognise you anymore” or “you’ve changed”, but he thought them. And Jackson must’ve sensed it.

They’d first met when Jackson was sixteen, and he was seventeen. They had been thrown together when, looking for a place to stay in Korea, an acquaintance had recommended a bunch of friends who were around his age sharing a house. They had a very nice place staked out which was cheap and a deal too amazing to miss out on but it was way too big for just the three of them and they were looking for people to share the rent. Yugyeom and Bambam joined their team soon after, since the terrace house still had plenty of vacant room and they were impossibly young students looking for lodgings.

The house share ended up turning into a garage band when they found the seven of them got on like a house on fire. Jaebum got them into the indie scene with his prior music connections and Youngjae’s voice took them places Mark would never have thought possible. He’d come to Korea with nothing but his bare necessities on his back and now stumbled into quasi-stardom, with a growing gang of groupies that followed them as they travelled around in a trailer doing gigs at underground clubs and watering holes, and finally releasing albums.

This was how they had passed the end of their teenagehood and entry into young adulthood. Alongside each other.

When Mark first met Jackson, he had instantly developed a mega crush on him. They all had. Jackson was the vitamin of their group, the mascot and happy virus. And it made Mark feel so special that at the start it seemed like Jackson saw him as his best friend, before anyone else. Then their friendship sort of mellowed and they grew up and apart, and there was a period when Mark felt lonely and distant, but was mostly occupied with building his own life and relationships and starting to date around too, and then there was that period when Jackson suddenly seemed to be blowing hot and cold towards him; and there were those heated irrational arguments that he no longer remembers the topic of; those heart-to-hearts when Jackson opened himself up and spilled his guts and Mark felt closer to him than he ever had, closer to him than anyone else in the world.

There had been that time when Jackson “reinvented” his personality and all of a sudden seemed to become this tall dark and mysterious guy some of their fans denounced as “no longer himself”, and Mark had been confused for a while too. He had wanted to speak out of turn, to tell Jackson things like _you don’t need others’ validation_ ; like _just be yourself_ : but now he sees that Jackson was being himself and it was Mark who had been foolish to expect him to act like his teenage self forever when they had both grown up and he himself had changed just as much beyond recognition, if in more subtle ways.

Jackson has deepened, expanded, in ways that are no longer invisible, like fine wine. And Mark doesn’t know why he feels suddenly able to see everything clearer than before, to appreciate not only how Jackson has grown but how their friendship has. He’d never even expected the formation of this friendship, much less predict the course it has taken. It’s been nearly a decade since he met Jackson and Mark has gotten to know the many facets of him slowly and gradually, through the years. He’s always known how ever-changing and mercurial Jackson’s personality is but it’s only recently that he’s seen the bravery Jackson has shown in time and again, exposing only the best sides of himself, challenging his boundaries to become a bigger and bigger person.

 

Nowadays, sometimes, Jackson feels like a shadow, slipping in and out of Mark’s life, elusive, uncatchable. But today, here he is, on his knees right before Mark, looking so achingly familiar and thrillingly new at the same time that Mark’s heart is doing somersaults out of his chest. He knows it’s because he’s a girl that Jackson is looking at him like this, wide-eyed with wonder and undisguised appreciation, but he wants to enjoy every second of it while it lasts.

That’s why he clears his throat and says in a small voice, “Actually… I’d like to think about it for a while.”

There is a beat of silence as everyone absorbs this. Then Bambam pipes up uncertainly, “Hyung… you don’t want to change back now?”

Mark feels his cheeks warm, and quickly clarifies, not wanting to give any strange ideas about him enjoying being a girl, “Of course I do! I just… haven’t decided who, I, um…”

Before he can continue his stuttering, Jackson authoritatively pushes Bambam away and stands up. He towers over Mark. “Let him take his time to decide. This is really important.”

Jackson looks down to wink at him, and Mark doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Sure, hyung. We’ll hang around here until you decide. I’m free today anyway.”

“So are we,” Yugyeom chimes in. “We were going to go to the movies together, but it’d be nice to just stay in and watch Netflix with everybody too.”

“But Jaebum hyung and I have work,” Jinyoung says apologetically. “We can cancel, though —“

“No, don’t! I’ll be fine,” Mark quickly places a hand on Jinyoung’s arm. Jinyoung’s face softens.

“Okay, if you say so. We’ll see our Mark hyung back again when we get home, right?” Before anyone can stop him, Jinyoung kisses Mark’s cheek chastely.

Mark’s hand flies to his face, which is burning. He regards Jinyoung with widened eyes. Jinyoung is blushing too, looking down. “Sorry, you were so cute I couldn’t help myself.”

“I thought you didn’t like girls,” Jaebum recovers enough to squawk in a somewhat irked tone.

“I don’t,” Jinyoung retorts defensively. “But if Mark hyung were a girl, maybe…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jaebum groans.

 

Mark hastily gets up from between them, not wanting to be the cause of discord. He sways on his feet a bit, perhaps from the sheer out-of-body experience, literally, and feels Jackson’s hand strong above his elbow.

“Do you want to go out for a walk? You look really pale.”

Somehow this sounds like a recycled line Jackson uses on all his girls, but Mark can’t help smiling. “Sure.”

“Bring him back in one piece!” Bambam shouts after Jackson, whatever that means, and Jackson muffles a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what they think I’m going to do with you.” He has this innocent smile on his face which Mark finds irresistible for some reason. This being-a-girl thing is making him giddy.

Their hands brush as they walk alongside each other and Jackson respectfully doesn’t linger. He shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk down the sidewalk outside the apartment. A small mercy, they didn’t need to disguise themselves like Jinyoung and Jaebum back then because they’re in laid-back, anonymous New York.

Mark is glad they came out, and that he didn’t only get to experience the inside of the apartment as a girl. Maybe it’s his imagination, but the air feels different, as does the clarity of his vision. It’s not clearer, per se, as much as it is unfamiliar, a novelty. He wouldn’t be able to describe it if he tried. It’s just the whole physiology, the way his body moves and cuts through the air. He’s probably over-dramatising this, but it’s not every day that one gets to try life out as the opposite gender.

“So, where do you want to go?” Jackson asks, giving him a sidelong look. Even though they’re both standing now, he still looms over Mark. Needless to say, the most novel feeling here is gazing this far up at Jackson.

Mark shrugs, feeling his ponytail swing. Jackson notices too and gives it a playful tug. He flashes Mark another coy smile. “Let down your hair. I want to see it.”

“Bossy,” Mark huffs, but slips the rubber band off obediently. His hair feels thick and unruly, and he’s worried he looks strange, a girl with a manly face, but Jackson stares goggle-eyed at him, nearly walking into a passer-by.

“Mark, you’re ten out of ten.”

“As a girl, I mean,” he hastily adds when Mark doesn’t reply, at a loss for words.

“Uh… thanks.” Mark laughs, but it sounds unnatural. He tries to tie his hair back up again but Jackson snatches the rubber band mischievously from his hands and holds it high out of his reach, sticking out his tongue. “Come and get it, shawty.”

Mark winces. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Why, shawty?” Jackson’s face is flushed with colour, his eyes bright and dark with teasing. He looks happier and healthier and more full of life than Mark has seen him in a long time. His heart aches unexpectedly.

“Did I interrupt your schedule today?” Mark changes the subject, trying not to shiver with pleasure at the way Jackson is absently running his large hand through Mark’s long locks like a comb.

Jackson fixes his eyes on him again, and smiles. “No. Even if you did, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He’s being more charming than usual. Flustered, Mark nearly walks into oncoming traffic at a crossing. Jackson grabs him easily, but his fingers are tight around Mark’s hand, his eyes serious. “Watch out.”

Mark is pretty sure he’s flushing visibly down to his neck. He feels ungainly and delicate, fragile at the same time, standing in his girlfriend’s crumpled old clothes with his arm in Jackson’s hand as the cars whizz past them. Mark thinks about the long years that brought them to this moment, here, now, with them feeling like strangers and two halves of a whole simultaneously. He wonders what it all meant.

Sometimes, days pass without him thinking of the man standing by his side. At other moments, like now, he can’t imagine how his life would have been without Jackson in it.

Sometimes, it makes him angry that he needs Jackson so much.

Others, he just doesn’t care.

 

“Have you decided where to go?”

The lights have turned green, and Mark feels a light nudge on the small of his back, the heat of a palm resting there through his filmy tank.

He looks up at Jackson, who’s regarding him with his usual inscrutable but attentive expression. “Where do you want to go?” Mark asks, and watches surprise flit across his face.

It’s quickly replaced by joy. “Really? I can decide where to take you?”

Mark shrugs, his lips twitching up at the corners under Jackson’s infectious beam.

 

They end up at Central Park. It’s autumn, and the floor is blanketed with maple leaves the colour of burnt sienna. Jackson solicitously checks if he’s tired and settles Mark down on a bench. He asks Mark to wait there while he buys them a drink.

Mark has his eyes closed, enjoying the late morning breeze caressing his skin, when a deep voice that doesn’t sound like Jackson’s makes him jump.

“Sorry, miss, but you look so beautiful against this background… could I possibly take a photograph of you?” The man standing before him looks awestruck for some reason, and hastily profers a name card. Mark takes it and notices that his palms are sweaty. He’s blushing, seeming unable to meet Mark’s eyes, but otherwise seems like a nice person.

“I’m a photographer,” the young man adds unnecessarily, after Mark observes the professional camera hanging from his neck.

For obvious reasons, he has to regretfully decline. As he’s about to covey this delicately, Jackson walks up from behind.

“What’s going on, Mark?” In contrast to his earlier mood, his voice has an unfriendly edge. Mark can’t see his face as he’s standing behind him but he can feel Jackson sizing up the guy above his head.

“It’s nothing; this gentleman just wanted to take my picture —“ Mark can gather what kind of stink eye Jackson must be giving him from the man’s blanch and the confusion flitting across his eyes at Mark’s name.

“Sorry, you can’t,” Jackson says shortly, without offering further pleasantries.

“Yes, I’m very sorry, but I appreciate it…” Mark murmurs awkwardly, and the man looks more embarrassed as he bows to both of them and accepts their answer, retreating.

 

Jackson sits down beside him heavily. Mark didn’t realise until now, but his delivery must have been a touch dampened by the two ice cream cones melting in his hands. He presses his knuckles to his lips to stifle a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Jackson says grumpily, shoving one at him.

“You didn’t have to be so rude. He was nice.” Mark licks a circle round his cone to prevent further dripping, and catches Jackson’s eyes widening before he averts them.

“Of course he was nice, that’s how men usually act when they’re trying to get laid,” Jackson snaps.

Mark is shocked by the crude language. Get laid? Him?

He’s definitely blushing hotly to the roots of his hair now.

“He just wanted a photo…”

“Have you forgotten now that you’re a girl? All men are wolves.” Jackson intones their long-time favourite slogan, which was in fact coined by Mark, as if he needs a reminder.

He snorts. “You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” Jackson admits reluctantly, taking big bites of his cone. “But if you came to any harm…” Mark sees his Adam’s apple bob, and he shoves the rest of the cone in his mouth, crunching noisily.

 

“We should go back,” Mark says suddenly, after a silence in which they both finish eating.

Jackson turns to him, eyes round. “You… you’ve decided?”

Mark nods, and watches consternation chase across his face.

Jackson laughs nervously, turning back to face the front and licking his lips, as if to cleanse off phantom traces of ice cream. Mark wonders what his mouth would taste like right now. It’s been years and years since the last time it crossed his mind. Mark thinks of the ennui he feels at the awkward age of twenty-four, the sense of tiredness of everything, including towards himself and their friendship. Everything seems to have settled down, somewhere when he hadn’t noticed. Sometimes it feels like their best days may be over.

But then there are moments like this, crystalline ones with diamond-sharp clarity, like the one they inhabit now. He can feel and smell and see everything around him, his senses focused on one object — the shadows Jackson’s downcast eyelashes cast against his cheeks and the urge of a girl wanting to kiss a boy Mark feels surging up inside him. He doesn’t push it down this time, doesn’t suppress it — just lets it grow and consume him until he’s saturated, overflowing to the brim.

 

He doesn’t know what will happen in the next moment. He wishes they could stay in this one forever. But he knows that time isn’t static, that it will flow on regardless of his wishes, and that if he wants this moment to last he must grab on to it recklessly, take the headlong plunge before the window of opportunity closes. It almost feels like a blessing bestowed upon him, a wish answered — that he became a girl today.

After all, everything will be totally and completely different after this. He will be changed the most, if this works. After all these years of blind stumbling, not even knowing what he really wanted, he finally feels like he has nothing to lose. Whatever happens, he’s not afraid. Jackson takes a deep breath and opens his mouth finally, tipping the balance from this moment into the next.

“Who?” he asks, and Mark leans forward to steal the end of the word clumsily out of his parted lips, answering his question.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jackson blinks open his eyes hesitantly, his heart trembling for some reason, Mark is still female and still beautiful.

They both jerk apart in abject embarrassment, too close for comfort. Jackson can still feel the lingering ghost of Mark’s soft lips on his, and tries to keep his eyes steady on Mark’s. His heart is still pounding with surprise. Mark is looking down at his body in dismay and building panic, and Jackson can read the thoughts racing through his wild eyes.

What if Jinyoung’s solution was just a fluke? What if — fingers crossed — he can’t change back?

In the fluster, Jackson dimly registers a feeling of golden warmth spreading in his chest, and recognises it as pride, a strange sort of honour. Out of all six of them, Mark chose him.

As Jackson, deep down inside, had hoped he would.

Not that he had been thinking of getting to first base when he flirted with Mark, casually and boldly. The overtures and compliments he paid had tumbled out of his mouth so easily and naturally, he hadn’t even realised he was flirting with Mark like a pretty stranger he was chatting up at a bar, until Mark lowered her head and blushed in a way she never did when male.

Pronouns were one of the many things confusing him right now, too. He knew Mark probably still thought of himself as very much male, but Jackson couldn’t help referring to him as _she_ and _her_ in his head. At least until he turned back into a true and blue boy. Somehow this made it all slightly less bewildering and alarming, the feelings swirling around messily in his head, smothering his senses. To separate this girl standing before him from the hyung he knows better than any other, Mark Tuan.

He didn’t want Mark to think he’s being here for him, wants to kiss him, just because he makes a shockingly pretty girl. Jackson is here because Mark is his best friend, and if he entertained any thoughts of kissing Mark, it’s because he only wanted to help him change back as quickly as possible.

Right. Jackson suddenly feels much better correcting his pronouns back to _him_ and _he_ , reminding himself with every thought that he just kissed the first boy in his life.

Technically, Mark isn’t the first boy he’s kissed, but all the other guys he’s cheek- or mouth-kissed before this were as jokes. None of those kisses had ever felt like this before, although some lasted longer.

He’s shaken by how wrong it _doesn’t_ feel.

 

Mark is gazing at him silently, his face red and eyes studying Jackson’s with something other than worry and upset — a tentative uncertainty, as if he’s afraid of Jackson’s reaction.

Maybe he’s regretting initiating the kiss with uncharacteristic recklessness, since Jackson hadn’t plainly expressed like all the other boys his willingness to help Mark out, although he had joked about it a few times at the start.

Even looking like the world is crumbling around him, Mark is breathtaking. His hair is princess blonde and felt like cornsilk to the touch. His hand, when Jackson held it at the crosswalk, was like satin. All seven of them have cross-dressed for the fans at various points in the past, but Jackson never remembered Mark looking so _made_ to be a female in his wig and padded dress.

Of course, there’s nothing except magic that can explain the whole phenomenon.

 

“Uh,” Jackson breaks the protracted silence with a brilliant ejaculation, then kicks himself. Mark snaps his head up, looking close to breaking down again.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still more concerned for Jackson’s feelings than his own. “I should’ve asked your permission.”

“No no, it’s okay! Don’t worry at all. I didn’t mind,” Jackson babbles, then stops himself before he finishes, _I liked it_.

“I was flattered,” he says instead, and Mark breaks into a surprised, tremulous smile.

“Really?” He’s pale with relief.

Jackson nods, refraining from touching him as he usually would. He smiles back. “Really.”

Mark frowns. “But… I didn’t change back. Why?” He studies his arms and body again, as if he’ll be able to find some changes, at least.

Jackson shakes his head sympathetically. “I don’t know. Sorry. Maybe I’m not the right person.”

Mark looks up at him then, and half-smiles reluctantly. He places an easy hand on Jackson’s elbow. “Don’t say that.” His voice is soft. “But — what should I do?”

Jackson shrugs, feeling frustrated at his inability to be Mark’s superhero and resolve his problem immediately and singlehandedly.

“I guess you should try it with the others and see.” Saying the words gives him a slight pang, at the thought of Mark’s plush lips being covered by their other six friends. He shakes off the odd feeling of possessiveness.

 

Mark sighs helplessly, his shoulders shrinking into himself and making him look even more tiny. Jackson has felt the urge to protect Mark any number of times through the years, but never like this. Never so intensely.

“Are you tired?” he asks sensitively. “You look wrung out.”

Mark nods. “I was so sure this would work.” Jackson can tell he’s struggling to keep his composure from falling apart.

“We’ll find a way,” he blurts out, placing an arm around his hyung’s shoulder. “I’ll fix this for you.”

Mark looks surprised by his resolute promise, and his head suddenly nestled against Jackson’s shoulder. But he doesn’t move away, although his body feels stiff like a scared bird’s against Jackson’s chest.

“Thanks, Gaga.”

 

Jackson lets them sit there for awhile enjoying the new proximity, until he takes charge authoritatively and fishes out his phone with his other hand.

“What are you doing?” Mark raises his head and gazes up into his eyes, and Jackson falters.

“Er… calling the other guys to let them know the plan. I’ll text Jaebum hyung and Jinyoung to come back too, in case you need them.”

Mark looks anxious. “What?” Jackson lets go of the phone and peers into his face with concern.

Mark puts some distance between them, to his disappointment. “Can we… just sit here a little while longer? I don’t want to go back just yet.”

Jackson’s heart softens instantly. Mark looks like this is one of the worst days of his life, understandably. It isn’t even noon yet and he’s been put through the wringer.

“Of course. Take your time. You should rest before we travel home.”

Mark looks slightly calmed by his gentle words. He touches Jackson’s arm again, as if he wants to repeat the words of gratitude he just said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’d probably be freaking out right now if I were alone.”

His frank words surprise Jackson. It takes a few seconds for him to reply. “Well, I mean… you have Jaebum and Jinyoung, and the maknaes. Even if I wasn’t here, you’d be okay.” He means to sound reassuring, but immediately feels like taking back his words. Because, of course Mark doesn’t _need_ him in a crisis. But spelling it out just makes Jackson feel sore.

“They’re great. But they’re not you.” For some reason, Mark looks slightly offended by his thoughtless words, making him wish to take them back more. But he feels the feeling of special-ness inside him grow larger, more confusing.

 

Somehow, they get to talking. Jackson tries to take Mark's mind off the problem at hand. They’re still sitting on that same nondescript park bench they settled down on an hour ago, but it feels like no other place Jackson has ever been before. In New York, or anywhere else. It feels surreal, and not just because he keeps looking at Mark and getting shocked all over again by the stranger he sees.

Passersby meander around them from time to time, strolling or jogging or walking their dogs. As the day grows brighter Jackson pulls his snapback on low over his eyes. He’d offer it to Mark to shield his face, if not for the fact he’s worried he’ll be recognised and put Mark in jeopardy. It’s not an egoistical statement to make that he’s significantly more popular and known in foreign countries than the rest of their band. That, too, comes with its fair share of headaches, and there’s never been any occasion he wished to look anonymous and unnoticeable more than today.

Belatedly, he realises it would have been quite awkward and possibly dangerous had Mark really changed back in a public place when they kissed. So he guesses that’s the silver lining in the cloud.

It’s been too long since they last talked, really talked without checking the time and having another appointment on either of their schedules to cut short their conversation. Jackson feels his soul releasing a sigh of blessed relief at the unexpected break from the hamster wheel of his budding career and juggling jobs he’s barely keeping afloat.

Mark was right — he had overreacted just now when he saw the stranger chatting him up, and Jackson tries to tamp down his natural urge to flirt and pepper his speech with double innuendos now, focusing on listening to Mark sincerely.

Perhaps he’s overly self-conscious about this, but in recent years especially, he’s been critical of himself for how he gives the impression of being flighty. Sometimes, unintentionally, he’s too busy to be everywhere at the same time, but he never wants to appear flaky, especially to his closest friends.

None of them had ever accused him of being so, but his inborn proclivity to magnify his faults was further exacerbated by the fans’ all-encompassing demands for him to be devoted entirely to the band.

It only took a few doubters, a few outspoken cynics, for him to start being ashamed of his actions and second-guessing himself. He hated himself for being such a people-pleaser, but couldn’t _not_ care about their opinions. They were his precious fans who had given him everything and raised him out of mediocrity, after all.

 

“What’s the meaning of all this?” he had blurted out cryptically one rare free afternoon when he was crashed on the couch of their shared apartment, a few months ago. Unwittingly, he had spoken out the thoughts he had been mulling on lately.

Jinyoung, who happened to be passing through the den holding mugs of corn tea for himself and Jaebum, stopped graciously to entertain him.

“All this?” His brow furrowed delicately in confusion.

“Yeah.” Jackson gestured vaguely. “You know, the meaning of being a performer and idol. The meaning —“ he hesitated, “ — of life in general, I guess.”

Jinyoung snorted under his breath, but not unkindly. He patiently set the mugs down and offered Jackson his mug, which Jackson politely declined. Jinyoung pushed it into his hands and ordered him to drink it.

“So, you’re finally curious about Nietzsche too.”

“Who?” Jackson sputtered on his mouthful of bitter tea.

Jinyoung smiled. “He’s a philosopher who advocates that life is essentially meaningless.” He delivered his pronouncement breezily.

“Oh, like Alan de Bottom or something? That guy you always read?”

Jinyoung chortled in amusement. “It’s Alain de Botton,” he corrected in an accent which sounded smug to Jackson’s miffed ears. For the record, his English is still way better than Jinyoung’s, although Jinyoung’s been studying it since before they left Korea.

Jaebum happened to emerge from his bedroom then, curious about why Jinyoung was taking so long. Of course, Jinyoung couldn’t resist making Jaebum laugh by telling him all about their conversation, and though Jackson loves to make people laugh and knew they meant no harm, he slightly resented being the subject of their friendly teasing.

Sure, he doesn’t read complex and wordy philosophy tomes like Jaebum and Jinyoung, but who wants to anyway? Jinyoung and Jaebum are never condescending, but he dislikes when some people regard him superciliously — yes, he does know the word _supercilious_ — as being less intelligent than them. He’s smart too — not book-smart, but smarter than most people stereotype him as. And not just street-smart, but knowledgeable in the areas he cares about, like music and emceeing.

On that day, he made Jinyoung even more tickled than he already was when Jackson effectively silenced Jaebum’s laughter by slurping loudly from Jinyoung’s cup. Jaebum immediately, as he expected, objected jealously to him sharing an “indirect kiss” with Jinyoung, while Jinyoung reassured him that he would allow Jaebum to personally wash the cup after Jackson had finished to his heart’s content.

He was still laughing, nearly coughing on Jaebum’s cup of tea, when Jaebum left them to sidle back into his room disgruntledly. Jackson smiled in satisfaction when Jinyoung looked upon him appreciatively, still giggling. He loves making his friends, and complete strangers, belly-laugh and guffaw. He enjoys nothing more than being the only one able to break the ice in an awkward roomful of people. Entertaining is in his blood. But it smarts when people only see the side of him who is a jokester, and none of his other dimensions.

That’s the downside of being four-dimensional — most people don’t think there’s a fifth or even sixth dimension.

 

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way — from young, he’s heard his fair share of detractors and criticism. Most people adored him but for some reason it was the ones that didn’t who stood out. He never told anyone, because he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. He already had tons more friends than the average person. If he felt that most of them didn’t know who he really was, on the inside — well, that wasn’t something he knew how to tactfully express and adroitly resolve.

Today isn’t the first time he’s been tempted to confide in Mark. In fact, many times he had come close, closer than towards any of his other friends or family. It had nothing to do with all the obvious things they have in common like ethnicity and language background, and everything to do with the immutable fact that when it comes to understanding him, Mark is yards and yards before anyone else.

It’s not something he verbalises often, perhaps ever — but Jackson always trusted Mark knew. Mark’s actions and warmth told him this. Although Jackson is much more rambunctious than Mark neither of them are particularly eloquent when it comes to mushy terms of endearment or heart-to-hearts. But the fact that Mark just _knew_ Jackson appreciated him spoke more volumes than anything could about the wordless connection Jackson felt.

Today, though, something loosens the floodgates. Maybe it’s how Mark looks almost totally like a different person altogether (yet impossibly familiar at the same time), but Jackson feels the same way he remembers feeling on the couch that day, warm and cozy, able to speak anything on his mind without being judged.

“Do you think I’m a bogus tryhard?”

Mark starts visibly, eyes widened on Jackson’s. Okay, maybe that didn’t come out right. Sometimes Jackson is embarrassed by his own bluntness.

Mark blinks, speechless, and Jackson quickly takes the chance to amend his question: “I mean, do you think I act like… like it’s really obvious I want to be liked?”

Okay, that turned out worse. He actually used the word _like_ three times in one sentence — so much for his good English. Mark looks suitably confused, his forehead creasing delicately.

“I think… it’s normal and human to want to be liked,” Mark replies slowly after a beat, and Jackson can’t help sighing. He shouldn’t have said anything. Mark doesn’t understand.

How could he understand how Jackson used to obsessively watch and rewatch videos of the band’s performances — or more accurately his fancams, his eagle eyes zooming in even further than the fanclub’s camera on his every move, his every expression, how he looks while singing, rapping, talking.

If Mark too did such a thing, he must do it in private because Jackson has never seen it.

Even the way he came on too strong to Mark just earlier today — Jackson cringes just recalling it. It’s become habitual for him to enjoy recreational flirting almost as if it’s a sport — it’s one of the few ways he knows how to express his appreciation and admiration for people he likes. Unintentionally, though, he sometimes catches himself straying into smarmy territory — and then he gets so insecure he stops talking altogether, even when the other party seems to be responding eagerly. He can’t help wondering if they are mocking him privately in their minds.

He was just being himself when he created his image, but he had never expected it to stick for so long, or for himself to outgrow it one day.

 

To tell the truth, he was probably projecting some of his sensitivity about an anonymous online comment he had read just a day before, that day in the den with Jinyoung.

It wasn’t such a big deal. The comment had simply read, “I love Jackson, he’s exactly like me. His need eclipses the sun.”

 _His need eclipses the sun_.

He was stunned for a few minutes after he read that. Was that really how people saw him? Was that the persona he projected?

It was just one of the numerous comments he read that day. But unconsciously, this particular one stuck with him, no matter how he tried to shake it.

It was definitely a compliment, but Jackson found it hard to feel flattered.

“Jacks?” Mark nudges him now, bringing him gently back to earth. “Penny for your thoughts,” Mark dimples innocently, not prying, just curious and concerned by Jackson’s earlier queries.

Jackson flounders, at a loss how to express everything he is thinking in words Mark can get.

“Do you think…” he tries again, undeterred, “I’m, uh, over-ambitious?”

He winces again. It’s the first time he’s put this worry into words, and yet it feels strangely freeing. Mark’s expression is open, accepting.

Jackson doesn’t need to ask — he knows he’s ambitious. He’s always been proud of it — after all, ambition is what got him to where he currently is. His parents are both ex-Olympians — he doesn’t know any other way to be. Wanting more, needing more: it’s as easy and essential as breathing to him. Perhaps that was why the comment struck a chord; because it rang true.

Mark definitely understands — they’re both in the business of being desired, and sometimes, especially when they were younger, it’s too easy to get caught up in all of it, the fame and glory and glitz and stardust.

 

Mark’s been quiet until now, as he usually is, but his feminine voice abruptly breaks into Jackson’s train of thought.

“I think you try so hard to be exemplary.” His voice is thoughtful, unabashed. “And I really admire that.”

The sheer straightforwardness throws Jackson off his moorings. He definitely wasn’t expecting that from Mark.

So the reply rolls off his tongue just as unthinkingly. “Sometimes I think I’m losing sight of who I am.”

His head is still reeling, because Mark _admires_ him? He never knew that; he’s actually giddy.

“How do you see me? Tell me honestly,” he continues brazenly. He realises, subconsciously, that perhaps the answer to this question was what he was searching for when he tirelessly combed through all his videos, and less of navel-gazing.

Mark hesitates, seeming apprehensive at his direct question. He ponders for a few measured seconds before answering.

“Well, you… you’re vibrant.”

“Vibrant,” Jackson repeats.

“You — sparkle,” Mark elaborates, with difficulty. “It’s like — it’s like you’re the sun and the rest of us are just planets orbiting you.”

Jackson laughs, disarmed. “That makes me sound like the biggest egoist ever,” he jokes smoothly, tongue-in-cheek.

“No, no!” Mark hastily waves his hands, as if afraid Jackson will misunderstand. “I meant it in a good way. The best possible way.”

 _The best possible way_. Jackson grins foolishly at Mark, irrepressibly and stupidly happy at the single compliment. “Thank you, hyung,” he says in Korean.

 

Mark colours again with pleasure, high on his cheeks, reminding Jackson of his girl-ness. He feels out of his element, in uncharted territory, despite usually feeling in his natural habitat around most females.

Despite his obvious awkwardness, Mark goes out of his way to continue, struggling to express himself to in a way that penetrates Jackson’s heart. He waits eagerly for what this ethereal, wispy girl has to say.

“It’s not just you… me, too… I think all of us… are struggling to find ourselves. To find our way in life. I definitely am.” Mark smiles wryly, regarding Jackson with affection, and continues more softly, “And I think you know more about your identity than you give yourself credit for.”

It’s a profound sentence, one that takes a moment for Jackson to digest. It’s surreal that Mark sees him this way — if he does. And Jackson knows Mark would never lie to him — because he never has. He trusts Mark with all of his heart, would put his life on the line for him, no questions asked. He’s one of the few people Jackson can be completely himself around, without fretting about being judged.

“So… you’re saying it’s all right to be insecure?” Jackson asks softly, a smile tugging his lips up.

Mark grins back, flashing his famous incisors. God, that’s bad for Jackson’s heart because he kind of looks like one of those super cute Japanese AV idols with crooked teeth Jackson used to watch as his guilty pleasure. He bites his lip to keep from blurting out a stupid compliment. More than anybody, he doesn’t want Mark of all people to think he’s superficial.

“It’s perfectly natural,” Mark reassures him, his voice impossibly soothing. “Geez, if you knew the whole list of my insecurities, you’d probably laugh yourself silly.”

“And,” Mark adds slyly, catching him off guard, “It would be kind of unfair if someone as perfect as you didn’t have any insecurities.” His words come out in a rush, the effect somewhat dampened by the visible blush staining his cheeks, too pretty to ignore. Jackson feels so bad about it, but he’s really, really attracted to Mark as a girl, physically.

Obviously, it’s beyond heady when such a girl calls one perfect. Jackson isn’t fooling himself into believing it, but it’s pretty damn nice to hear. Mark really outdid himself and went the extra mile to comfort Jackson, sensing his preoccupation just from two brief and incoherent questions. That’s how deeply he knows Jackson. And that’s how observant he is, has always been, sensitive and attuned to Jackson’s every passing emotion.

For the first time in a long time, Jackson feels _understood_.

“And Jackson…” Mark says his name for the first time since he became a girl, sending a jolt through Jackson’s sternum, “Fuck the haters. Life’s too short for them.”

He looks straight at Jackson when he says this, a defiant smile lacing his lips, almost as if he knows what Jackson’s been brooding about, even though he never spelled it out in so many words.

Sometimes, Jackson believes Mark knows sorcery.

 

“Now tell me what’s up in your life.” Jackson leans back and smiles in anticipation, thoughtlessly draping a familiar hand over the back the bench, bracketing Mark’s shoulders. His heart leaps to see Mark tremble a little but not move away, looking happy about his advance.

It’s horribly unfair to Mark, because he must be frantic with worry, but somewhere along the way Jackson had started hoping he would stay a girl longer. Longer than a few hours; a day. He knows this can’t last, is painful and uncomfortable for Mark, but he selfishly is enjoying their time spent in each other’s company. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. But does Mark feel the same way?

He’s probably only indulging Jackson, as he does way too often. Jackson feels spoiled rotten by Mark’s showered attention and unconditional friendship, his rock-solid alliance.

 

When Mark starts talking, first haltingly and then more fluidly, seeming glad to share about his life and his own quotidian worries, Jackson has the chance to covertly observe him. Not just his looks, but his unique mannerisms and expressions Jackson knows more familiarly than home, his pleasant laugh and perfect smile.

While one part of him is enjoying this thoroughly, the other part feels increasingly disquieted and unsettled. It frightens him how arbitrary he discovers the line between them is, as if it was always drawn in sand, since the beginning. A tenuous boundary easily erased cleanly by the smallest wavelet. Flimsy, and now nowhere to be found. Gone.

Many times from when they were teenagers, through the years, they had play-kissed, mock-hugged, dialled up the fanservice to make girls scream themselves hoarse. But that had always felt safe, an inside joke between them.

Nothing about the distance between them feels safe now. It feels charged, electrified, like after Mark leaned forward out of the blue and kissed him. It feels like anything could happen.

And it must be wrong, even if it doesn’t feel so, because Mark is still the same Mark he’s always been, utterly and completely masculine, a man’s man — even if he looks like the most attractive woman Jackson’s ever laid his eyes on. Jackson holds his outpouring of emotions back consciously. He mustn’t be deceived by physical appearances, and do something feckless and irreversible. After all, it’s already been confirmed that he can’t be of service to help Mark, and now must gallantly and willingly give up the role to any other guy Mark chooses.

He’s not used to being near Mark feeling dangerous, sinful; because Mark has always been the embodiment of security to him. And it’s crazy and senseless, even this overwhelming physical attraction, because girl-Mark has the same stick figure boy-Mark has, the kind of girl some tactless guys would tease as having the same front view and back view. Jackson personally prefers women with more curves, badass, sexy ones. Mark is anything but badass, as a girl.

But — Jackson doesn’t know if it’s because girls mature faster than guys, but female Mark seems even more avuncular than male Mark, if that’s possible. The way he talks; the advice he gives, Mark suddenly seems light years more grown-up than Jackson. Mark has always been enormously thoughtful and gentle and steadfast, fiercely loyal to his friends and faithful to a fault — but what Jackson always privately admired is the way he’s so quietly sure of himself, never seeming to change from the start, never seeming to go through the awkward phases they all underwent in early adulthood. More than anything else, though, what drew Jackson to him was his capacity for giving.

 

Because he feels childishly slighted to be the only one caught up in this tumult of emotions, while Mark beams serenely, almost looking pleased about his transformation too, Jackson thinks of what he can say to throw Mark into a tizzy too.

Or if he’s honest with himself, maybe he just wants to pretend he’s able to make Mark blush more, while he’s still female. Heaven knows Mark will stop blushing so coquettishly the moment he turns back to his taller-than-Jackson, gruff self.

“Could you sing me a song?” he says randomly, making Mark look up in surprise at his conclusion to their serious, deep talk. Jackson feels triumphant.

“Why?” Mark giggles nervously, unsure if he’s kidding.

Jackson grins, enjoying every minute. “Because your voice is really pretty. It would be a waste if no one heard this voice sing.”

 _Smoothly played, Wang_ , he congratulates himself. Obliquely complimenting Mark through his voice, what a stroke of genius.

It’s true, though. Mark’s deep voice is still husky as a girl’s, but now saccharine and melodic at the same time. The kind of voice that would drive any guy out of his mind. Jackson tries to keep his thoughts clean and pure.

He clears his throat and pushes a bit more, because Mark looks embarrassed but hasn’t said no. He also looks bowled over by Jackson’s praise and Jackson grabs the in.

“Please?” he wheedles. “I’ll even do _aegyo_ if you want to see it. You love my _aegyo_ , right?” He bats his lashes shamelessly, and Mark sputters in indignation.

“I do not!” he protests hotly.

“Okay, then I won’t do it if you sing,” Jackson swiftly changes tack. He sweetly softens his merciless teasing with his signature persuasive puppy eyes which have worked on every woman he met thus far.

He is thrilled to note that Mark is no exception.

“Okay, fine. But in exchange, you have to sing me a song too.” Mark’s eyes gleam.

Jackson didn’t see that coming. Mark certainly drives a hard bargain. But it’s worth it.

“Aww, why?” he whines, pretending to be petulant. “You’ve heard me sing a million times.”

“Yes, but never in a park, to me alone, right?” Mark refutes calmly, smiling like he knows Jackson’s just playing hard to get.

“I’ve sung to you one-on-one before,” Jackson corrects stoutly. “But you’re right, never in a park…”

“You first.” Mark settles back comfortably on the hard bench, looking for all the world like he’s anticipating a concert. Jackson would sing a million songs until his voice failed him if only Mark continues smiling so artlessly like that.

He coughs and clears his throat again, stalling as he decides impromptu what song he should sing. Mark waits patiently.

He starts out with his voice a little rusty and shy, and it takes Mark a few verses to realise what song he’s singing. His almond eyes round.

_Looking back on the things I've done / I was trying to be someone / Played my part, kept you in the dark / Now let me show you the shape of my heart_

Jackson finishes the verse and stops, and Mark looks disappointed that he didn’t complete the song. But he claps with genuine appreciation.

“That was amazing,” he gushes. “Why don’t you sing your cover at our next gig? The girls will love it.”

“It’s only for one girl,” Jackson shrugs, then realises what he just said and flushes himself. Mark’s so transparent, he can almost see the words flashing across their forehead as they dawn on him. _Me. I’m a girl today_.

 

Jackson hurriedly changes the topic to save face. “It’s your turn, _noona_.” He smirks impishly when Mark jumps comically at the term.

Mark huffs at his mischievousness. “Any requests?”

Jackson thinks for a minute. “Um… how about _Naturally_?”

Mark looks blank. “Who’s the artist?”

“Selena Gomez.”

Mark’s expression is priceless. “That’s… a random choice,” he manages to reply.

“Come on. Your voice would suit it so well. I’ll join you after a few verses,” Jackson coaxes encouragingly.

“Uh, okay. Here goes. Don’t laugh at me!”

Gamely, Mark begins, fumbling a little with the lyrics.

_You are the thunder and I am the lightning and I / Love the way you know / Who you are and to me /  It’s exciting when you / Know it’s meant to be_   
_Everything comes naturally, it comes naturally / When you’re with me baby_

Mark falters at the end of the verse, and Jackson wordlessly urges him on, joining in but not overpowering Mark’s mellow voice.

_When we collide, sparks fly / When you look in my eyes it / Takes my breath away_

He finds himself catching Mark’s eyes while singing the awkwardly appropriate lyrics, and Mark halts abruptly, breaking their connected gazes.

He clears his throat this time, quietly and warily regarding Jackson, like he doesn’t know what Jackson wants from him. Jackson catches himself and backs off, feeling like he went too far, read the hints wrongly again.

Mark jolts him out of his reverie with a soft interjection.

“Do you want another song?”

“Oh, er, okay.” Jackson feels ridiculously delighted by the generous offer.

 

The final song Mark chooses to sing doesn’t seem to have any underlying meaning, but it resonates in Jackson’s heart the most. Partly because of Mark’s mellifluous voice, surprisingly suited to the song even as a girl’s, and partly because, unexpectedly, the song dredges up beautiful and treasured memories of childhood for him.

“ _Dao Xiang_?” he says unnecessarily after Mark has finished, sounding absolutely sublime. Jackson vows to make sure the fans, and possibly the record label, hears this cover.

Mark nods, smiling and looking pleased by Jackson’s obvious emotional response.

“If you wanted to sing it, you should have told me back in 2015. We could have covered this instead of _Silence_.”

Mark laughs then, and Jackson glows.

“No, how should I put it — it’s kind of like, the kind of song to sing privately to a friend? A best friend,” Mark says without any trace of shyness, meeting his eyes finally.

“True,” Jackson hums, still fondly savouring the acoustic echo of Mark’s rendition.

“It makes me feel nostalgic,” Mark adds, “For the past. I used to listen to this song alone in my room all the time, back before —”

“Before we blew up,” Jackson finishes his sentence.

Mark smiles, eyes knowing.

“I think it would be weird if we knew where we’re going,” Mark says, apropos to nothing. “And kind of unfair, too. Seeing as we’re so lucky and all. We have so much at such a young age. Not only our careers and financial security and success and music and fans but… each other.” He smiles, finishing awkwardly.

“I know what you mean,” Jackson reassures him. “I totally feel the same.”

“You do?” Mark lights up radiantly.

Jackson nods, smiling dazedly at him.

“Good,” Mark enthuses, seeming to have forgotten that he’s still uncertain if he’ll ever be a man again. Jackson shakes his head and chuckles; it’s exactly like him to forget himself for the sake of others. “And,” he reminds Jackson, “Remember when we debuted, and we had no guarantee anyone was going to like us or our music? Look how far we’ve come.” He looks as amazed as Jackson suddenly feels, as wide open with gratitude.

“We’re blessed,” Jackson affirms, feeling the last shadow of doubt about the future flutter out of his mind.

 

They share a companionable silence in the warm light of the sun before Jackson leans closer, holding his breath.

“I’m scared.”

“Still?” Mark murmurs, and Jackson quickly shakes his head, laughing a bit.

“No, I mean right now.”

Mark leans closer too, his eyes like dark orbs peering into Jackson’s. “Why?”

Jackson has been trying to control his impulses all morning. He’s been on his best behaviour, but now he feels on the verge of breaking all the rules, and not caring. Mark is sitting just an inch away from him, looking so ineffably kissable that all of Jackson’s nerves are alight and tingling. He’s never wanted anything more intensely than he yearns to give in against his better judgment right now. But —

“Mark,” he whispers, “I don’t want our relationship to change. I don’t want us to stop being bros.”

Mark laughs then, with surprise, as if Jackson’s reliance on their solidarity is funny.

“I love you,” he reminds Jackson, gently bopping his nose.

They’ve said the three words to each other in so many different languages, countless times, until they became almost meaningless. But now, the same sentence feels charged with meaning, entirely new. Jackson’s heart skips a beat.

“That’ll never change. Ever,” Mark says simply.

“You’ll never hate me?” Jackson whimpers, voice hoarse.

Mark looks amused and tender. “No.”

“Even if I do this?”

This time, Jackson is the one who surges forward to press his lips more clumsily than Mark against his best friend’s. He doesn’t think of anything while doing it; not the consequences or repercussions or fallout. He doesn't think that there's no reason, no _excuse_ to justify his actions. He just feels the desire licking through his veins, red hot.

 

“Jackson,” he hears Mark’s wobbly voice, quavering.

When he opens his eyes this time, Mark is back before him, fully male, still dressed in girl’s clothes, and _oh shit_ , Jackson quickly does a scan of their surroundings to see if anybody noticed. His heart slides back into place to see, miraculously, no one around.

“Mark — I’m sorry — I didn’t think —“

He’s stammering, thrown off balance, unable to face the suddenly beloved face of his most familiar hyung inches away from him, his lips red and kissed.

“Jackson,” Mark says, sounding overjoyed. “Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks after a few seconds when Jackson doesn’t reply, too abashed to look up suddenly. It’s stupid when he was the one who just aggressively kissed Mark mere moments ago.

Jackson looks up just in time to see Mark looking uncertain. “Do you… prefer me as a girl?”

“No, no! Of course not!” Jackson replies too loudly. Mark looks half-hurt, half-hopeful. He looks more gorgeous than he has all day, even in the ridiculous outfit.

“I much prefer you as a guy,” Jackson tells him firmly, holding his shoulders, then whips off his jacket and drapes it over Mark’s shoulders.

“Wait here for me, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes after buying you a set of clothes. And ignore strangers if they try to flirt with you!”

Mark laughs out loud at his last, half-serious remark.

“Are you going to get ice cream too?” he teases right back, seeming restored to himself. Jackson is flooded with knee-weakening relief. He’s so happy to have his Mark back, really.

 

Just to hear that incredible laugh again and know he’s responsible for it, Jackson splurges with no regrets on an ice-cream hoodie. Mark is absolutely taken with it, and heads to the nearby restroom to change. Jackson sprawls back on the park bench in satisfaction, stretching out and texts the gang while waiting for him to return.

He laughs his head off too at the influx of outraged, excited, relieved and shocked messages. Then the chat turns to discussing who this “disaster” will befall next. Bambam and Yugyeom guess each other. Bambam insists that since he played the girl in their April fools joke, irony declares that Yugyeom will be the transformed. Yugyeom squawks defensively, questioning all of them, “Wouldn’t you rather see Bambi though???” Jaebum replies smartly that Yugyeom is the only one who wants to see that. Youngjae keeps repeating “Kekeke”.

_But… what if it’s Jackson?_

Of course, it’s the ever-delightful Jinyoung’s suggestion again. The chat goes crazy with hilarity and Jackson shuts it with a feeling of unease as Mark sits back down beside him.

“You look good,” Jackson praises him without batting an eyelash. It’s easy to say because it’s true.

Mark smiles modestly. That’s why Jackson likes him — because he’s someone who gets complimented on a daily basis, but never acts like he’s used to it. Grounded, the way Jackson aims to be. There are so many things he likes about Mark that it would take Jackson a week to list them all — but one day, he promises himself, he’ll sit down and do it. Mark deserves no less.

“You must be hungry,” Jackson swiftly transitions. He can barely believe that all that transpired today went down on an unremarkable and shabby park bench. It seems like everything has changed. And it has. “Do you want to go and grab lunch for our first date?” He slings an arm around Mark’s bulky shoulders, and feels the static between their bare skin.

Mark’s smile deepens. “Sounds cool.”

 

They continue chatting at the diner, seeming never to run out of banter.

“Jackson,” Mark reminds him again as they’re finishing up the food, “Remember that it’s okay to want to better yourself; it’s okay to never be satisfied. It’s a good thing. But it’s also okay to feel tired, or burnt out at times. Just make sure you talk to me, like we did today. I know you better than anybody, right? So trust my judgement. And don’t ever forget how outstanding you are.”

Mark blushes, defying Jackson’s expectations that he wouldn’t continue to as a guy.

“Outstanding?” Jackson raises his eyebrows, basking in the heaping praise. “I could get used to hearing that.”

He’s kidding, but Mark says seriously, “I’ll tell you again anytime you want. Just ask.”

It’s nice, walking alongside Mark, just talking and laughing about nothing at all. It feels like one of the mundane pleasures Jackson once lost and has rediscovered anew. It’s more than nice — in fact, it feels like something that makes life worth living.

He still hasn’t read Nietzsche — but maybe, just maybe, he’s found some meaning.

“Today was really fun. We should come out for walks more often,” Mark says, as if reading his mind.

“You bet,” Jackson tells him.

 

“Hey,” Mark murmurs after a few more steps, his hands in his pockets. “Why do you think the second kiss worked?”

Jackson has been wondering about that too. And the only reason he can think of is that —

“Maybe because the second time, our feelings were…” He stops, unsure. He doesn’t want to hurt Mark, doesn’t know when Mark started having romantic feelings for him. Hell, he isn’t even completely sure they’re officially together now.

“Mutual?” Mark finishes, looking dead into his eyes, and Jackson just nods, stymied.

Mark smiles, and his smile tells Jackson everything he needs to know. All his doubts spontaneously evaporated, his heart soars weightlessly into his throat.

“Let’s go home now. The others must be worried about us.”

“I already told them,” Jackson informs Mark, taking his hand, “But yeah, let’s."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a second chapter because I like this verse, and was flattered by some readers' interest to read more too :) also when I reread the first chapter I felt like I didn't do much justice to Jackson's characterisation (not that I think I did here either lol, because I've barely been keeping up with updates for ages and am not really in touch with recent got7 events). this chapter is for all the readers who expressed interest in reading on in this AU, and also to all the readers of this fic in general (I was so blown away by the fantastic number of kudos ;w;) thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic!! it made me really happy and inspired me while writing the second chap :)
> 
> ps. was I the only one who didn't know 'bae' is short for 'before anyone else' until recently? lol I was so amused that I decided to use it as the title for this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write another markson fic since last year because they're my ult otp but I never felt like I did them justice with any of my fics. I've written many markson fics but the only one I'm satisfied with is probably transit, not that I'm satisfied with this one haha. I just keep feeling like their dynamic eludes me in every fic I write, but I decided to post this anyway with the hopes that some readers might enjoy it. this is dedicated to everyone who read my previous markson genderbend fic, I love you! and also one of my most precious bffs and loyal readers, daramjwigongju :) thank you as always to everyone who takes the time to read this <3


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